


Kiss of the Whip

by TurtleNovas



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Kink Meme, Masochism, Other, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurtleNovas/pseuds/TurtleNovas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor kinkmeme fill.<br/>Prompt: Loki is whipped as a punishment for one of his tricks. He's hunched over when he walks away afterwards, so it looks like he's in pain, but he's actually trying to conceal a throbbing erection. The pain gets him harder than anything else ever has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss of the Whip

Loki cast a calculating gaze over the courtyard. He was surrounded on all sides by guards, and each exit was held by yet more men. Odin, it seemed, had prepared for the possibility that Loki might be reticent to face his punishment without a fight. Loki sighed inwardly. Perhaps, if they had not doused him in water before dragging him here, he would have had a chance of escape. With his magic dampened as it was, though, he certainly stood no chance. It seemed, then, that he no choice but to endure.

He was pushed to his knees, the guard's hand heavy on his shoulder. He scowled, glaring defiantly at the man. “Do not labor under the misconception,” he hissed venomously, “that when this is over, I will forget your part in it.” There was fear in the guard's face at that, and it made satisfaction curl pleasantly in Loki's gut. If he was to be forced to suffer such indignity, he would certainly not suffer alone.

So it was that, as Odin's booming voice echoed around them, detailing Loki's crimes and the punishment that was to be meted out, Loki looked once again around the courtyard, meticulously noting the details of each face that was present. There was his father, and his mother, of course, and Thor, looking as though he himself were about to be flogged as well (the sentimental fool). Then there were the hundred guards, and the few privileged courtiers, each of whom would suffer at Loki's hand when this was finished. He smiled.

Then, he was taken to the post, his hands bound above his head, his back presented to the whipmaster. He was to endure one hundred lashes, and the arm behind the whip, he knew, would show no mercy. Loki breathed deeply, and refused to show fear. He would not give them the satisfaction.

The first lash came, and the pain was like nothing he'd felt before. The kiss of the whip was a shock to him. It did not feel like leather on his back, but rather the blade of a knife, heated by fire, and pressed into his skin, flaying him open with an almost sensual bite. He found himself unable to catch the moan that tore it way from his throat. The lash fell again.

Loki shuddered, his breath refusing to come with any sort of regularity, caught in the cage of sudden pleasure that welled within him. It was disconcerting to say the least, but the sensation was not at all unwelcome. With each touch of the flog, Loki's pleasure mounted. The pain was enough to cast splotches of white over his vision, and his entire body seemed to scream in protest as his skin was split open, revealing the flesh beneath. His heart beat an uneven staccato against his chest, his breath still crowding into his throat, impossible to capture, and impossible to swallow. He felt tears rise unbidden, but could not be bothered to keep them from falling. Suddenly, all of his stubborn pride had evaporated, replaced by the feeling of this magnificent, overwhelming pleasure.

He groaned, the crack of the whip ringing loudly in the air of the courtyard, and the pain singing through him once again. He could feel the ache of each lash, throbbing persistently beneath the sting, his blood rushing to the surface in waves, spurred onward by the unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat. He felt it in his back, and again in the hardness between his thighs. It was glorious.

He became lost in the sensation of it, felt himself working ever closer to the precipice of orgasm, even as pain mounted relentlessly within him. He could not see, could not hear, but for the crack of the whip, which to him seemed now to be the tender admonition of a lover. So addled was his mind, that he did not realize his punishment had ceased until his hands were cut free, and Thor was there, draping that garish red cape over Loki's shoulders.

His disappointment was crushing, and he could not help the distraught groan that escaped him as Thor moved to help him stand. “Come, brother,” Thor said then, voice weighted with his own despair. “Let us make haste to the healers.”

Loki pulled the cloak tighter around himself, unable to straighten completely, for risk of revealing his arousal to all those present. Thor's concern was palpable, and Loki had little choice but to allow himself to be taken.

It was not until much later that Loki found himself in solitude enough to revisit his punishment, his hand moving swiftly over his length, even as he pressed his back mercilessly into the wall. His wounds split open again, hot blood smearing over his skin, and the searing pain of it was enough to bring Loki over the edge, his seed spilling over his knuckles with the same heat. He smiled wickedly to himself, and sank to the floor in exhaustion.


End file.
